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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23413087">Used by You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddsnends/pseuds/oddsnends'>oddsnends</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Henry Cavill - Fandom, Sand Castle (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Implied Sexual Content, NSFW</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:29:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,756</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23413087</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddsnends/pseuds/oddsnends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
      <p>Follow up to Cheap Wine and Cigarettes</p>
    </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Captain Syverson (Sand Castle)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Used by You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Follow up to Cheap Wine and Cigarettes</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Where are ya bug? Can ya come over? I w-want t-to see ya.”</p><p>“Are you okay?” Her first reaction had been that he was in a mess, woke up screaming and gasping for air. Hearing his sinister snicker, gave him away.  She looked at the clock on the night stand, nearly 3AM and he was drunk. If she knew Syverson, and she did, this was more than a casual call to come play a game of poker. </p><p>“I need your company, bug. I just need ya.”  </p><p>His voice lingered in her mind. Hours after giving in to his request. Here she was, again. This man would be her greatest undoing, yet here she was letting him have his way. As usual. One day, one torturous and unforgiving day, she would tell him no and walk away. </p><p>Who the fuck was she kidding? He would never let her get away. He would never commit to her, but he would never let her go either. His style was to call when he wanted her, drag her heart around a little, whisper sweet nothings, and then let her go. </p><p>She had been out of bed and ready before he hung up the phone. Driving to his apartment, she cursed herself and him the whole way. She was getting married in three days, no way in hell should she have been driving to see him in the middle of the night. At the same time the thrill of it all was intoxicating. Better than any whiskey he was drowning in, she would guarantee it. </p><p>The clock on the night stand now showed 6AM. If she didn't go soon, she would never get out of here. If he woke before she made her escape, he would never let her go. If last night was any indication of how this morning would go. His rugged arm was thrown across her, snoring contently, he was on his stomach sleeping off the whiskey, wine, and every other sin they committed when she'd arrived. </p><p>One slight move and he would be wide awake, glaring at her for making too much noise and waking him. Nothing she couldn't smooth over with a few minutes and her lips wrapped – no. Oh No. She suppressed a groan and wiped her hand over her face. Maybe pissing him off and leaving would be the magic touch she needed to escape this? </p><p>Syverson had been using her long enough, about high time he found someone else. Someone who would give in to his empty promises and sweet nothings, someone who wasn't going to be married in three days. They didn't talk about that, not this time. He never said a fucking word about her wedding or that he'd got the invite. Everything he had to say had been said the last time. She'd heard it all, because he didn't bother to hold back. </p><p>Pinning her under his weight, he'd ranted and raved like a mad man, all while pounding her into the mattress. Never missing a beat. What kind of sick and twisted game had that been? Why had she done that? </p><p>Inviting the man she'd been fucking to her wedding, was she asking for trouble? What did she expect? Him to stand up and tell her what a dickhead her fiance was, to tell her that she could do better than that asshole. Whisk her away from the alter, taking her somewhere secluded and defiling that white dress in ways she never dreamed possible. </p><p>His eyes had clouded over, leaving her lost in a sea of stormy blue. His left with what halo of brown that was almost lost when he grew aroused and his pupils dilated. She'd seen that look so often she had lost count. It drove her crazy, in all the best ways possible. Kind of like Syverson did. </p><p>“Ya don't need him.” He'd insisted, after the fact. Lying in bed with her resting against his chest. Every now and then he'd let her stay, lingering once the deed was done. He liked having her, when she'd stay, her nestled against him. It was what made those long, cold nights bearable is what he would say. </p><p>“I don't need you either, but here we are.” </p><p>“Careful that smart mouth is going to get ya in trouble, bug.” Syverson's laugh in that moment haunted her. Tormented her like a ghost that she couldn't shake. </p><p>This time he had a difference about him. Needier, less feral, almost as if he would break her and the world would shatter if he let go in the ways he usually did. Every caress, every kiss, even his reckless attitude had been tamed. </p><p>Each thrust gentle and his words soft. It was as if he'd been possessed and his body snatched. No complaints, he'd left her just as sore and wanting, but this was something new for Syverson. Never overtly rough, he wasn't known to be a gentle lover. He'd left her body buzzing and wanting in a way only her could, until the next time he called wanting her. Then, too, he would leave her high on a mess of emotions. Wanting and craving what he could do to her body. </p><p>Lying under the weight of his arm, she sighed and closed her eyes. She hated herself for this. She hated him for this. She hated that she allowed herself to be his plaything, even more so that he wouldn't agree to making this something more. A man like Syverson didn't do commitment, he used you when he wanted you. One got used to it or moved on. She'd used him in her own ways. Escaping reality to this fantasy built up in her mind over time. Syverson was an escape, someone more than a man to fuck her senseless and leaving her wanting more. He knew things about her that her own fiance was oblivious to. He did things to her that she would never trust another soul to do – physically and emotionally. </p><p>“You're not trying to leave. I'm 'pressed.” His voice startled her. Thick with sleep, half muffled by his pillow. His head turned to face her, he offered her that cocky smile. His thick beard framing his face and hiding his dimples. </p><p>Rolling onto his back, Syverson used his heavy hand to scratch at the hair on his chest, grumbling about it being too early to be human. Said the man who hardly slept – a detrimental side effect of his job. </p><p>“You weren't exactly making it easy for me to leave.” She half sat, watching over him. Laid on his back, he chuckled, reaching out for her. </p><p>Softly running his fingers along her arm, Syverson licked his lips, blinking and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Can't let ya escape that easily.” </p><p>“Well, now that you're awake, I should be going.” She sat, her legs on the edge of the bed and feet on the floor. </p><p>“Why rush? Ain't I a gracious enough host? Give me a minute, I'll even make a coffee and we can discuss breakfast.” His low rumbling laugh was thicker after he'd woke. </p><p>“I have an appointment, after lunch, with my wedding planner.” </p><p>“Ah right, right.” He rubbed his hands over his face, grunting and grumbling under his breath. “Ya go to that appointment, bug, and you're ruining your life.” </p><p>“Am I? Oh, please tell me more about how I can't manage my life.” She bent scooping up her pj bottoms from where he'd left them when she'd arrived. </p><p>Falling back onto his pillow, Syverson rolled his eyes. “Why ya wanna marry him anyway?”</p><p>“Because there comes a time in a woman's life, where she wants security. Someone more than a guy who only uses her when he's in town, gets his rocks off, and then leaves again for months and months.” She was bitter to say the least. </p><p>“Ah, come on, bug.” Syverson held a hand out, reaching for her. “It ain't like I'm that selfish. I make sure I'm getting your rocks off, too.” He smirked. “Least it seemed that way last night, when you were making a mess all over my sheets, and screaming for more.” </p><p>“I have to go, Syverson.” </p><p>“Before ya do, tell me one thing.” He held up one finger, his brow deeply furrowed. Exasperated, she would play his game, “Why are ya marrying him? The truth. None of this security bullshit. I know you don't love him.” </p><p>“I don't see how this is your business.” Hands on her hips, head cocked, she challenged him. </p><p>“Humor me, I need a good laugh this morning.” </p><p>With a heavy sigh, she stood at the foot of his bed. Her hair a mess, a scowl on her delicate features, and her eyes dark. He could take her right here and now, if she'd let him. Bend her over the end of that bed and help her forget all about that trust fund dick head. </p><p>“I'm marrying him, because he's not really that bad. Besides, it's more than you ever offered.” </p><p>Snorting, Syverson cocked his head. Like a curious puppy, he pouted and pretended to hold his hands over his heart, in a dejected manner. “Oh bug, I've given ya everything I have to give ya. If I could give ya more, I would.” </p><p>“You could you won't.” </p><p>“I can't. Nah, fuck that. You don't need to be waiting here all the time, wondering if I'm dead or alive. If I'm ever coming home or if you're going to be left by yourself. I couldn't do my job, if I knew ya were here every night wondering where I was.” Syverson shook his head, his hand plowing through his hair that he'd been growing out since he was on leave. </p><p>“Then why do you care if I marry him?”</p><p>Sucking in a breath, he exhaled with a grunt. His chest expanding and releasing with his actions. He loved her, wasn't that clear enough? </p><p>“I won't fuck a married woman. I'm a selfish prick, you knew that all along.” </p><p>He was a headcase. Purposely at that. He would go round and round in circles until she gave up trying to talk, allowing them to put their mouths to better use. He licked his lips at the thought of his mouth and what it could do her most intimate parts. Fuck. </p><p>“Alright, well, since that is your choice,” She bent to pick up her shoes, a pang of hurt rushing through her, “I guess I'll see you at my wedding. Good bye, Syverson.”</p>
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